


The Doom Laser

by Feneris



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supervillains, Armed Robbery, Crack, Doom Lasers, Gen, Holding the World Hostage, Humour, Weapons of Mass Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:19:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17585906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feneris/pseuds/Feneris
Summary: Torbjorn Vasterstrom had a plan to restore his family's wealth and standing. Unfortunately for everyone else, a big part of that plan included building a doomsday device and holding the world hostage.





	The Doom Laser

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this little fic took me two years of intermittent work to get done. In the meantime many new developments happened in the plot (that I am still getting over) yet for some reason I just kept coming back to it. Two years later its done.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

"Alright," Torbjorn Vasterstrom announced. "We've had a month. Have any of you had any luck finding skilled people to work on this little project of ours?"

"Well, mixed results," Taru Hollola, the former Finnish strategic adviser replied. "First we started out by compiling a list of all trained professionals with the skills we needed." She motioned to the pile of papers on the coffee table in front of her. "We started by narrowing the results down to all those within our budget range." With that she swiped half the papers in the stack onto the floor. "We then further narrowed it down to those that we could trust with the sensitive nature of this project." She then swiped the rest of the papers off the table. "This was what was left."

Both Torbjorn and his wife Siv stared in dismay at the empty table. "What do we do now then?"

"We get creative," Trond Andersen, the retired Norwegian general spoke. He reached into his coat and produced two sheets of paper. "I got in touch with some of my old contacts and was able to find two people we might be able to use. This," he pointed to the first sheet. "Is Sigrun Eide. Former captain in the Norwegian Special Forces. She served with NATO forces in Afghanistan was dishonorably discharged over several reports of reckless behavior and unsubstantiated rumours that she had used several Taliban POWs as target practice. After that she apparently bummed around Libya and Syria as a contract mercenary for five years before returning to Norway, where she is currently looking for work. She's got plenty of experience, and she'll join us for free if we promise her some action and danger. The second," he pointed to the second sheet of paper. "Is Mikkel Madsen, former medical officer in the Danish armed forces. He was officially discharged from the army for insubordination, though rumors suggest the real reason was because his superior officer couldn't stand him. In any case he went on be hired, and subsequently fired, to a variety of jobs ranging from janitor to heavy duty mechanic, to diplomatic aide. He's reliable, level headed, and comes with a varied and practical skill set. Not to mention he's currently between jobs right now so it should be easy to get him on board."

"I also managed to scrounge up some potential employees," Taru added, producing her own sheets of paper. "I was originally going to hire an infrastructure engineer I know. But he turned me down without even hearing what I had to offer. Shouldn't be surprised I suppose. Onni has always been afraid to step out of his comfort zone. His sister however was willing to take up the offer." She gestured to her first paper. "Tuuri Hotakainen is a freshly graduated engineering major, who knows multiple languages, has experience in heavy duty construction and mechanics, and is eager for any opportunity to prove herself. She brought along her cousin Lalli." She motioned to the second page. "Lalli is an itinerant tree planter, surveyor, and hobby cat burglar, who to date has yet to be caught by the police. I only know this because I woke up one night to find him slipping out my living room window with my microwave under his arm."

"He stole your microwave?" Torbjorn raised an eyebrow.

"It's part of why he hasn't been caught," Taru replied. "He mostly steals random things that catch his fancy. Most of his victims don't even realize they have been robbed. They either don't even notice, or assume they've just misplaced whatever it is he's stolen." She turned her attention back to Torbjorn and Siv. "What about you two. Know anyone we could hire?"

Torbjorn and Siv shared a look.

"There is Emil," Siv offered hesitantly. "He's our nephew," she added. "He's got his skills. He was in university to become a lawyer, but he switched to demolitions engineering because he found he liked blowing things up. He didn't actually get his degree because he accidentally burned down the university chemistry department experimenting with volatile chemicals."

Silence filled the room.

"Quite the ragtag crew," Trond remarked dryly. "But probably the best we're going to get."

"The only thing we're going to get," Siv muttered.

\---

The bunker had definitely seen better days. It had been a last ditch of a last ditch resort when it had been built during the Cold War, and with the warming of relations and the cooling of tensions it had subsequently been neglected by the government, until they had sold it to a private citizen with a survivalist streak, who had subsequently sold it under the table to Torbjorn and his little group of conspirators in exchange for Trond not revealing to certain authorities what was buried in several shallow graves in a certain forest clearing.

The survivalist had given the bunker about as much regard as the government had, and it showed. Emil was pretty sure the chair he was sitting on was one wiggle away from collapsing.

"Alright," Torbjorn announced from the head of the conference table. "I know you've all been frustrated with the secrecy about what you'll be doing, but now that you're all here I can explain everything." He took out a large piece of paper and spread it out on the table to reveal a very complicate set of schematics. "You're going to help us by building this."

Everyone leaned forward to get a closer look.

"What the heck is it?" Sigrun asked, looking at the schematics in bewilderment.

"Looks like some kind of doom laser to me," Emil admitted.

"Oh nothing so grandiose," Torbjorn assured him. "This is merely a prototype for what we hope will be a monumental breakthrough in open pit mining. A cheaper and safer way to remove the metal from the ground and simultaneously smelt it with minimal emissions and fuel."

"Let me see that," Tuuri reached over and spun the paper around so it faced her. Silence fell over the room as she scrutinized the schematics. "This is totally a doom laser." she declared. "Forget mining. You could wipe a city off the map with one swipe of this thing."

Everyone turned to look at Torbjorn. "Alright," he admitted. "It is a doom laser. We want you guys to build us a giant doom laser."

"You said this was going to help us get rich again." Emil asked. "How does building a giant doom laser make us a lot of money?"

"It's easy," Trond interjected. "You build your doomsday device, point it at a major metropolitan area, and then contact the local government and name the price that will disincline you towards turning it on."

"So you're going to hold the world hostage with this thing until they cough up the cash," Sigrun supplied. "I suppose that's why you've got me on board?"

"Well, there's more to the plan than that," Torbjorn replied, “and it's better if you don't know the details. But essentially yes. We'd thought it would be prudent to have people like yourself and Mikkel around just in case things don't go exactly to plan."

"Which is almost certain," Sigrun declared. "Well, I've never been part of a conspiracy to take over the world before, but this sounds like it’s going to be fun. I'm in."

Everyone turned to look at Tuuri.

"Well..." She said. "I'm not sure I'm fully on board with this whole holding the world hostage thing, but I think I can actually build this. Either way, me and Lalli are in."

Lalli himself offered no objects to this. Mostly because he was currently asleep in his chair.

"Well, if you're sure it’s going to work, I'm in too," Emil declared.

Everyone turned to Mikkel.

"It beats milking cows," he finally said. "Count me in."

"Excellent!" Torbjorn exclaimed, relief evident on his face. "Of course I need not remind you that this whole endeavor should remain completely secret. We have given you our contact information, but I'm sure you can all agree it's best we keep communication between ourselves to a minimum unless it is an emergency okay?"

\---

The first problem emerged barely a week into the project.

"We have a problem," Tuuri announced, laying the plans out on the table.

"Some flaw in the design?" Mikkel asked, peering down at the schematics.

"No, more like a flaw in the infrastructure," Tuuri replied. "Mikkel, how is this bunker powered?"

"We have three diesel generators," Mikkel answered. "With our current power needs we only need one running so the other two are backups."

"Even if we had all three going at full bore we wouldn't have enough to juice to keep the doom laser from doing more than flicker. We're going to need a lot of juice to run this thing when we get it done. A lot more juice."

"Can't we like, siphon electricity off the national power grid?" Emil suggested.

"Not practical," Mikkel shook his head. "We don't have the infrastructure to hook up to the national grid, and putting it in place would draw far too much attention to what we're doing here."

"Not to mention that all they would need to do is cut off the power to the hideout and our doom laser becomes nothing more than a fancy piece of decor. And I think people will notice when the lights go out from here to Oslo."

"So do we get like a lightning rod and a shit-ton of batteries?" Sigrun asked.

"Batteries won't work," Tuuri shook her head. "At least not on their own. We need a generator of some kind. Wind and solar could do, but we're then at the mercy of the clouds and wind. Would be nice if we could get our hands on like a cold fusion generator or something..."

"I know where we can get a cold fusion generator." Lalli turned Emil's laptop around to show 'Tech Company Gigatech Announces First Successful Cold Fusion Generator.' blazoned across the front page of a news site.

"Let me see that." Tuuri reached over, took the laptop from Lalli, and began reading over the news story. "This... could actually work. It says here's they're getting between six to ten thousand megawatts from their prototype, that's more than enough to power both this base and the doom laser."

"So we just have to steal this cold generator thing and we're good?" Sigrun perked up.

"It weighs fifty tons."

"Damnit."

"So we steal the plans and make our own," Mikkel interrupted. "Gigatech will probably have backups of everything in its head office."

"I can get us into the head office," Lalli declared.

Sigrun looked almost predatory. "Blondie," she turned to Emil. "Can you shoot a gun?"

"Ummm... yes?" Emil answered. "I've been out hunting with my dad a few times."

"Alright," Sigrun surged to her feet. "Who wants to do an armed robbery of high tech facility?"

\---

It was late at night when three armed figures with balaclavas over their heads cut their way through the chain-link fence that surrounded Gigatech’s main offices. The security guard, absorbed with her cup of double espresso and a newspaper, was paying more attention to the road than she was to the surrounding bushes, and so didn't notice the three figures dart from shrubbery to shrubbery as they made their way across the lawn to the main building. They darted into cover by a side-door. Lalli produced a key card and swiped it in the reader. The door beeped and they were inside.

"Just a second," Lalli said, holding his hand up to stop them. He pointed his phone at a security camera tucked away in a dark corner, and activated some kind of app. "We're clear. Lets go."

They darted down hallways, past glass windows showing empty offices, up and down flights of stairs, until they reached a section helpfully labeled as the engineering department. They filed passed rows of dark cubicles until they found one that wasn't in direct sight of the window. Lalli plugged his phone into one of the computers, and within minutes was into the system and downloading all the plans for Gigatech’s cold fusion generator into his phone. Incomprehensible diagrams flashed across the screen and Lalli cut his way through encryptions and password protections.

“Done,” Lalli announced as he unplugged his phone and slipped it back into his jacket pocket.

“Great,” Sigrun replied. “Lets get…”

“HEY! Who the hell are you guys?”

Three heads spun around to see a security guard standing at the end of the row with a flashlight pointed at them with one hand, and the other hand reaching for the gun at his side.

Sigrun beat him to it. The glint of her assault rifle off his flashlight gave him just enough warning to dive for cover as a spray of bullets ripped into the drywall.

“GET TO THE EVAC ZONE NOW!” Sigrun yelled. “MOVE IT!”

Lalli and Emil took off like rabbits, bolting frantically for the door with Sigrun at their back, firing busts of bullets behind her to keep the security guard stuck behind his cover. An alarm began blaring as they skidded down the hallway accompanied by the sound of more feet running towards their position.

“Blondie!” Sigrun yelled as they torn off down the hallway. “Distract them!”

“Distract them!?” Emil yelled back. “How!?”

“You’re the fire guy!” Sigrun yelled back. “Set something on fire! As long as they’re dealing with that they’ll be too busy to follow us!”

Emil fumbled in at his belt, producing a flask with an image of a flame painted on it. He scrambled to unscrew the top and emptied its contents onto the floor, just as the pursuing footsteps got louder.

“Here!” Lalli pushed open a fire exit, and darted outside, Sigrun at his heels and Emil following close behind.

“Wait!” Emil reached into his bag, pulled out a long red roadside flare, ripped open the ignitor, and chucked the burning flare through the open door.

Windows shattered. Flames shot ten meters into the air. 

The security guard at the gate didn't stop them. She was too absorbed with cowering in her booth. Terrorists with assault rifles and bombs were way above her pay grade.

They wound through a maze of streets and alleys before jumping a low fence surrounding a warehouse. Lalli open a door and everyone ducked inside. Mikkel was waiting inside with the car.

They stripped off their mission gear, revealing normal street clothes underneath, and tossed them in the back of the car along with their guns and gear. Mikkel quickly dumped a camouflaging layer of old McDonalds bags, candy wrappers, and empty cigarette packs over the incriminating items before climbing into the car himself. He started up the engine, and they drove off into the night.

Then Sigrun started laughing. 

“HAHAHAHA! THAT WAS FUCKING GREAT! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME! HAHAHAHA! WE’RE GONNA TAKE WHAT WE WANT AND BURN THIS WHOLE FUCKING WORLD TO THE GROUND! ME, YOU, AND TWIGY OVER THERE! HAHAHAHAHA! WE’LL FUCKING RULE LIKE KINGS! HAHAHA HA HA ha ha… ha… Where did that kitten come from?”

Emil looked down at the furry head poking out of the front of his coat. “I found her in a cardboard box in one of the alleys as we were running away. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

\---

Some said terrorists, some said corporate espionage gone too far, some even said it was a secret conspiracy to prevent cold fusion from becoming a reality. Either way, the break-in and subsequent firebombing of Gigatech’s main office was international news. Politicians promised to get to the bottom of things. International intelligence agencies vowed to catch whomever was responsible. Criminal masterminds tried to get in touch.

The gang for their part largely ignored all of this. They had what they wanted, and within a month they had their own cold fusion generator humming away in one of the bunkers many unused rooms. It hadn’t even been that hard once you knew what you were doing, Tuuri admitted.

\---

“This has got to be a joke.”

Reynir looked out the window of the van towards the small concrete tunnel entrance leading down into the mountainside. Two hours driving down a pothole ridden gravel road, and he had expected at least a cabin or shack or something.

He looked down at the address his boss had given him, and back at his GPS. This was the place apparently.

“This has got to be a joke,” Reynir repeated climbing out of the van and retrieving his cargo from the back. It would be the perfect joke to send someone like him out in the middle of nowhere, but there was another set of tire marks in the dirt besides his own, so that meant at least someone had been up here recently.

And his boss’s policy was that they delivered anywhere, so joke or not, he had to at least make an effort to find someone to deliver too. He walked up towards the entrance of the tunnel.

"HELLO! ANYONE ORDER A PIZZA?"

No one answered as he carefully made his way down the tunnel towards a large door big enough to let a vehicle through, paired with a smaller door only big enough for one person. He knocked on the smaller door.

"HELLO? ANYONE HERE? I'VE GOT YOUR PIZZA!"

To his surprise, the door was unlocked when he tried the knob, and he hesitantly pushed it open. It looked like he was in some kind of garage. To his encouragement there was a car, a pickup, and what looked like a large delivery truck parked inside. Even better, there was a door at the far end of the garage, and he could see a beam of light coming out from the gap underneath. Once again he knocked, once again there was no answer, and once again he found it unlocked.

This led to what looked like a coat room, complete with a line of shoes and boots by the wall and a rack filled with coats. Even better, he could hear voices coming from another room.

"The cold fusion generator is working better than expected. We don't even need the diesel generators anymore. More importantly, I can put my full attention back on the doom laser. We're a bit behind schedule, but not majorly. I figure if I really go hard at it for a few days, we can make up for lost time."

"Ummm... excuse me." Reynir called out, knocking on the doorjamb as he approached the room. "This is the old bunker on Forestry Road 256 right?"

Sigurn answered him by leaping to her feet and pointing an assault rifle at his face.

"Who the fuck are you!?"

"Reynir Arnason!" Reynir stammered out. "I work for Donny's Deep Dish Pizza!"

"What the fuck are you doing here then!? How did you find this place!?"

"Someone named Emil ordered two large pepperoni pizzas to this address. I just put it into my GPS!"

Everyone turned to stare at Emil who shrunk down in his chair. "Lalli said he was hungry."

Lalli gave him a dirty look and smacked him upside the head.

Sigrun let out an exasperated groan. "How much did you hear?"

"Uhhhh... something about a cold fusion generator and a doom laser."

"I'm sorry," Sigrun pushed the rifle to her shoulder. "We're going to have to kill you."

"We can't kill him." Mikkel's arm reached out and pushed the barrel of the rifle down, away from Reynir's face. "The pizza place has our address. When he gets reported missing, this place is going to be the first place the cops check out."

"Fuck," the glare she shot Emil was venomous. "What the fuck do we do with him then?"

Mikkel turned to Reynir. "Besides finding your way into places you don't belong, is there anything else you are good at?"

"Ahhh... well... I grew up on a farm so I know how to raise sheep?" he offered hesitantly. "But that's probably no good to you guys huh?"

"Not in this case, no," Mikkel shook his head.

"Uhhh... I guess I also know a few things about computers," Reynir tried. "I'm no expert but I took a few programing courses after I left high school."

"Good enough. Welcome to the team." Mikkel stepped forward and held out his hand for Reynir to shake.

"Uh... thanks?" Reynir replied, reaching out to shake Mikkel hand automatically.

"You can help Tuuri with the more digital aspects of the Doom Laser," Mikkel continued on. "Of course, I should mention that if you actually do tell anyone about what we're doing here, we will actually be forced to kill you. That applies to everyone." He cast a pointed look at Emil who just sunk deeper into his chair.

\---

**OnmiEagleOwl:** Tuuri, we need to talk.

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Tuuri isn't here right now.

**OmniEagleOwl:** This is a private family chat. Who the hell are you?

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Sorry! Tuuri's just in the shower right now. I just thought you'd want to know why she couldn't answer right away.

**IcelandicSheepdog:** I'm Reynir, one of her co-workers.

**IcelandicSheepdog:** You're her brother Onni right? She's mentioned you. She's got this old picture of you, her and your cousin at her worktable.

**OmniEagleOwl:** I didn't know she still had that old photo

**OmniEagleOwl:** Guess you are who you say you are. When Tuuri gets out of the shower can you tell her to message me?

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Sure no problem.

**OmniEagleOwl:** Thank you.

\---

"We have a problem," Mikkel drummed his fingers on the table.

"Another one?" Emil asked, looking at Mikkel in disbelief. "What is it this time? Do we need to like, get our hands on dilithium crystals or something?"

"Nothing so exciting," Mikkel replied. "Most of the materials for the laser are rather more mundane. No, our problem is rather ordinary actually. We're running out of money."

"I thought they said we wouldn't need to worry about money!" Emil protested. "My uncle said we should have all the funds we need."

"I'm afraid our generous benefactors were a tad optimistic on that part," Mikkel sighed. "They did not anticipate things like the recent price spike for steel and aluminum. Or the cost for commissioning some of the more specialized components. The main problem however is the cold fusion generator. While it was necessary, and has saved us on diesel, it was also an entirely unanticipated expense and has thrown our budget completely off."

"So we're fucked?" Emil asked.

"Things aren't that dire yet." Mikkel reassured him. "We still have money for the moment. But if we don't get fresh funds soon, we will be in trouble."

"Does this mean I need to ask for my job at the pizza place back?" Reynir asked, looking up from the kitten cuddled up on his lap.

"I'm afraid minimum wage isn't going to cut it," Mikkel replied with a sigh. "Cold fusion generators aren't cheap, even if you make your own with stolen plans."

"How much money are we talking here?" Sigurn asked.

"Not much. A million at least will get us to completion, baring another major problem that requires a lot of money to fix," Mikkel replied grimly.

"So we need to win the lottery or rob a bank or something," Sigrun replied.

"Banks are bad," Lalli retorted instantly. "Too many guards, too many cameras, and the money is all marked."

"We could maybe get a loan or something," Tuuri suggested hesitantly. "And then, you know, not pay it back until we have the doom laser done?"

Mikkel shook his head again. "No one is going to lend us that much money without a thorough check," he replied. "Not to mention it would expose us to all kinds of scrutiny and possible outside interference."

"What about like, multiple small loans?" Reynir pipped up. "I mean, there's less scrutiny on a smaller loan right?"

"That might work... We'd need a lot of fake ID to avoid suspicion but..."

"I've found something," Lalli interrupted. He spun Emil's laptop around to show everyone.

"Karen Spenser Museum to Host Gemerald," the headline announced.

"Let me see that," Sigrun said, reaching over to take the laptop. She peered over the article. "Largest cut calcoemerald in the world... displayed at the Karen Spencer Museum... valued at two million... This is perfect. Twigy you are a genius."

"I should point out that this has the same problems as robbing a..."

"Who wants to steal a big ass gemstone?" Sigurn called out.

 

\---

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Emil and Lalli walked up the steps to the Karen Spenser Museum. Casing the place was what Sigrun had called their mission. Take a look around to see what they were dealing with and note down anything that looked like it might be important.

Emil did most of the talking, while Lalli sulked in his shadow with the hood of his shirt pulled up, and his face buried in his phone. To Emil's surprise, they didn't ask him to leave his bag at the front desk, and after paying for their tickets were free to check out the museum.

"Should we check out the Gemerald first?" Emil asked as he unfolded the map of the museum the clerk had given him.

"No, we save that for last." Lalli replied.

"What should I look for?"

"Nothing," Lalli returned. "Just look like you're actually interested in what they have on display, and I'll do the rest."

"Uh... okay?"

Emil for his part, learned quickly that he didn't get modern art. At the very least he didn't get the stuff the museum had on display. Almost none of it made any sense and most of it wasn't even nice to look at. He basically wandered around staring at the art, and not getting it.

Lalli followed behind him, seemingly engrossed with whatever he was doing on his phone. He didn't pay any attention to the art on the walls, but Emil caught the quick careful glances he gave towards the security cameras hidden on the corners and the occasional security guard they walked past. Finally, they drifted into the room where the Gemerald had been put on display.

It was impressive, Emil had to admit. About as big as his fist, it was a deep cloudy green, and actually very pretty to look at. Unlike the a lot of the other art in the place. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the lone security guard in the room put down the sandwich they were eating, and make a hurried rush towards a door with a washroom sign on it.

Lalli's hand darted into his pocket. Quick as flash, he stuck something into the lock on the Gemerald's glass display case. Emil barely had time to gape as Lalli reached in, snatched the gem right off its pedestal, and dropped into Emil's bag.

"Let's get out of here. Follow me."

It was mostly shock that kept Emil's mouth shut as he followed Lalli through an employee's only door, down a uncarpeted hallway, and out an emergency exit.

_"I thought we were only casing the place?"_ he hissed as they exited onto a busy street and slowed down to match the crowd.

"Opportunities come up, plans change," Lalli replied. "Shut up and try not to draw attention to yourself."

Emil tried his damn hardest to be inconspicuous. But the Gemerald in his bag felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and was obvious to all who saw him. Still, no one tried to stop them as they circled around the block and made their way to where Sigrun and Mikkel had parked. 

"How'd it go?" Sigurn asked, the moment they climbed into the car.

"Good," Lalli answered. "We got it."

"What do you mean you got it? You were..."

Emil interrupted her by opening his bag to show off the fist sized green gemstone sparkling within. Sigurn's expression froze.

"Mikkel. Get us the fuck out of here."

\---

 

"What do you mean it's worthless!? They said that thing was worth millions!"

Mikkel shook his head. "Every news agency right now is blaring about how someone walked into the Karen Spencer Museum and waltzed out with a two million dollar gemstone. Right now it's the hottest stolen gem in the world and none of my contacts want to even hear about jewelry while the cops are turning over ever auction house and jewelers outfit they can find. No one is going to want to try fencing this thing while under that kind of scrutiny."

"There's got to be someone who'll pay." Sigrun was practically growling.

"No one that I would trust not to snitch us out to the police," Mikkel replied. "Which means that right now that gem is worth about as much to us as a paperweight."

Two heads turned towards the table, where Tuuri and Reynir were bent over the schematics, specifically towards the fist-sized gemstone holding down one of the corners.

"Alright," Sigrun said. "So we need to find something else to steal. TWIGY!"

"Found something!" Lalli called back, spinning around in his chair to show off the screen of Emil's laptop.

"Local Historian Finds Treasure Trove of Nazi Loot. Estimated Value Over Five Million," the headline read.

"Perfect!"

\---

**PaulBrewers:** Everyone watch out. Slepinope is on the warpath right now.

**KathyMondie:** I know, I can hear the yelling all the way down the hall.

**KathyMondie:** What's got his panties in a twist?

**PaulBrewers:** You know the guys who ripped off the all those marble statues from that private collection?

**KathyMondie:** Yeah? Didn't they like firebomb a grocery store as part of their escape?

**AhmerAbidi:** Yeah they did. Weren't they also responsible for hijacking that truck with all those old Nazi paintings in it?

**KathyMondie:** Yup, I even heard Andrews saying he suspected they might be behind the theft of the Gemerald too.

**PaulBrewers:** That's them alright. Anyway, Mr. Internet-murder-ghost thinks he's got a lead and can hack his way into their systems. He lasts about five seconds before the kid they have on cyber-security shuts him down. Just like that. Stopped him dead in his tracks. Slepinope has been trying to get into their systems ever since and keeps getting stymied at every turn. They might as well have a magic wall up for all Slepinope has been able to get through.

**KathyMondie:** Well I never thought I see the day. Kind of nice to see that asshole get knocked down a few pegs though.

**AhmerAbidi:** Amen to that.

**Slepinope:** At least this asshole still has administrator access to this entire network.

**Slepinope:** Stop gabbing and get back to work!

**Slepinope:** And Paul, I know you're the one who keeps changing my username. When I'm done with those thieving assholes, you’ll be next.

\---

The bowl was 9th century Song Dynasty porcelain, and was valued at over three hundred thousand dollars. Over five million when it was part of the whole set. It was also, in Emil's humble opinion, a killer noodle bowl. Which was fitting, because instant noodles were the only thing they could afford right now.

Still at least the hideout was looking a lot better. All the fancy art on the walls really helped cover up the stains, and added a boost of color to contrast the grey concrete. They'd even managed to replace the crappy chairs in the conference-slash-dining room. Sure the hardwood thrones they had replaced the chairs with were still pretty uncomfortable, but at least they didn't feel like they would collapse under you with one wrong wiggle.

"So, good news," Tuuri announced, sitting down at the table with her own bowl of noodles. "I managed to salvage some parts from some old appliances and electronics to use for the Doom Laser's control panel. So that should save us some money. The only thing is that the Doom Laser's power settings are now defrost, toast, bake, deep fry, crispy, extra crispy, and dark."

Sigrun let out a growl from her spot at the head of the table, and glowered into her bowl.

Mikkel dished out his own bowl of noodles and sat down at the table. "You know," he said, gesturing towards the steel beam poking out of the door to one of the storage rooms. "I still don't know how you expected me to be able to fence the Eiffel Tower."

\---

**OmniEagleOwl:** Alright, talk. What's going on?

**IcelandicSheepdog:** ??? What are you talking about? Everything is fine over here.

**OmniEagleOwl:** Don't give me that. Tuuri's been getting evasive whenever I talk to her. That means there's something wrong, but she doesn't want to worry me.

**OmniEagleOwl:** So spill. What's going on that she won't tell me about?

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Okay, okay. It's just that we've been having some funding problems lately.

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Turns out the budget they gave us wasn't enough to get the job done.

**OmniEagleOwl:** Ah, yes, I am familiar with that problem. They always think you can do with less, and never seem to believe it when you say it can't be done.

**OmniEagleOwl:** What are you doing about it?

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Well, we've been trying to sell some assets, but we've been having some difficulty.

**OmniEagleOwl:** What kind of assets?

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Art. Some old paintings.

**OmniEagleOwl:** Well that explains everything. Let me guess, no one wants to buy them because the art police are going over every art sale with a fine tooth comb.

**IcelandicSheepdog:** More or less

**OmniEagleOwl:** Pain in the ass. It's even like they actually expect to catch those maniacs. It's just a show that they're doing something.

**OmniEagleOwl:** I'm willing to bet those maniacs aren't even interested in money. So fat chance of catching them by monitoring art sales.

**IcelandicSheepdog:** What makes you say that?

**OmniEagleOwl:** Look at what they've stolen. Famous gems, famous painting, famous statues, even national landmarks. They're valuable sure, but they also attract a lot of attention from authorities and the general public. The problem with stealing the Mona Lisa is that everyone knows it's stolen, and the cops are going to be hunting like crazy. A fence would have to be crazy to draw that kind of heat on themselves.

**OmniEagleOwl:** One high profile artwork could just be ignorance, but a whole spree like this, definitely people who are in it for the fame and thrill, but not the money. If they were after money they would have gone after gold or silver. Precious metals, things like that. Even if you ripped off a national treasury, all you would have to do is to melt the gold down to erase the identification seal and corrupt any trace mineral balances. Then the whole thing is basically untraceable.

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Huh...

\---

The plan, such as it was, was simple enough. The Federal Gold Reserve was transferring a load of gold to another repository, and they were going to hijack it before it got there. They didn't know how Lalli had gotten his hands on an itinerary for the transfer. But he had and it had been invaluable in planning how they were going to jack the shipment. Everything had gone off without a hitch. There was just one problem.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE THE GOLD!?"

"We were ahead of schedule!" the driver pleaded as Sigrun's assault rifle poked into his back. "We already dropped off the cargo and were heading back! Please don't kill us!"

"You know, I thought the truck was heading in the wrong direction," Emil spoke up.

"Quiet Blondie," Sigrun snapped. "I'm thinking. You two." She gestured at the two men they had taken hostage. "Strip. Blondie, grab their keys. Twiggy, get the duct tape."

\---

The guard on duty at the repository’s main drive-in entrance was not expecting the armored truck they had just seen off to be back so soon.

“What happened?” they asked as soon as the truck had pulled up to their booth.

The drive let out a weak laugh and ruffled his blonde hair. “This is kind of embarrassing but I think I left my wallet back at the office. It’s got my driver’s licence and everything. Is it okay if I just duck back in to check?”

The guard narrowed their eyes. Something was off here. They double checked the plates. It was the same vehicle that had just been here. Had the driver always had blonde hair? Yeah, now that they thought about it, they were pretty sure they had.

“Yeah, alright. Just be quick about it. You’ve still got a schedule to keep.”

“Thanks,” the driver replied. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

The barrier rose and the truck drove into the compound.

When the call came in five minutes later, saying that one of the armored trucks had   
been hijacked, the news was brushed off by the person who answered the call. They had bigger things to worry about at the moment. 

Like the fire, the big hole that had been blasted in the side of the building, and the load of gold bullion that had just been stolen.

\---

Lalli gasped for breath as he resurfaced and glanced around. Yup, just as he thought, this stand of willows would hide his escape from the federal agents combing the road. He wrung his shirt out as he stomped through the shallows and up onto the riverbank. 

The plan had worked. Sigurn and Emil had bailed out with the gold while the cops and army guys continued to chase Lali in the truck. ‘Accidentally,’ driving it off the bridge had allowed him to cover his own escape. All he needed to do now was to make it to the road where Mikkel would be waiting to pick him up. 

The bomb Emil has planted on the truck took that moment to detonate. A plume of water was blasted nearly ten meters into the air, spraying the surrounding area with water and bits of shrapnel. 

Lali let out a disgusted sigh. 

He hated getting wet like this.

\---

In Tuuri’s opinion, the best thing about having money in the budget was the little luxuries they could now indulge in. Like hot cocoa. Heated in the microwave of course because there was no way she was trusting her cocoa to Mikkel’s dubious cooking skills. 

Reynir was sitting at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, placing her hot cocoa in the microwave. 

“Fine,” Reynir replied. “Absolutely fine. Just thinking about the fact we’re probably all going to go to jail when this is done.”

“We’re not going to go to jail,” Tuuri said after a long pause. 

“Right, of course, silly of me. With all the crimes Sigrun, Lalli, and Emil have commited, they’ll probably just shoot us on sight.” 

“Look I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, but there’s nothing to worry about, we’ve done nothing wrong. We're just building things. 

“Nothing wrong?! We’re building a giant doom laser in a secret bunker filled with stolen goods!” Reynir cried. “Everything here is stolen! That picture on the wall! The chairs in the dining room! You’re even drinking stolen hot chocolate out of a stolen mug heated up in a stolen microwave!”

“Reynir,” Tuuri replied. “This hot cocoa isn’t stolen. You guys bought it at the grocery store remember?”

“No, Lalli stole it from the employee break room at the grocery store. I watched him do it. Why do you think that mug you’re using has ‘Nielsen’ written on the bottom?”

Tuuri blinked, then held the mug up to peer underneath it. 

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. But the microwave isn’t stolen. It’s Lalli’s and he had it long before we came here.”

“It’s a pretty fancy microwave. Where did he get it from?”

“He…” It was at that moment that Tuuri realized she didn’t actually know.

—

“Have you been sleeping alright?”

As Director, he normally didn’t ask that question to the agents who worked under him, but special agent Slepinope looked positively deranged. His eyes were shadowed black, and he looked like he hadn’t got a wink of sleep all week.

“I’m fine,” Slepinope replied. “Perfectly fine.”

The Director didn’t bother pointing out that that wasn’t an answer to his question. “You told me you had something to show me?”

“I’ve got them,” Slepinope hissed. “Those bastards left a webcam plugged in and I’ve finally got them.” His fingers danced over his keyboard and one of the large wall-screens lit up to reveal a large pink nose, a furry face, and two bright blue eyes.

“Look!” Slepinope declared. “They have a cat! We’re already getting somewhere!”

_”Right,”_ The Director thought. _”We’ll just cross-reference the international cat database to see who owns a fluffy calico with blue eyes.”_

“Kitty!” Someone called from offscreen. There was a meow, and the camera shook as orange fur brushed passed the lens, which ended in a fine view of feline ass filling the screen. “Oh there you are.” the voice continued. “What’s so interesting about the webcam that… oh for crying out loud. Not this guy again.”

The screen suddenly went black. Slepinope let out a shriek and lunged for his monitor.

\---

“Three, two, one, blast off!” 

Emil slammed down the plunger on the detonator. There was boom from the valley below, a rumble, and then a pillar of smoke and fire shooting off into the night sky.

“Annnnd… we have geosynchronous orbit!” Tuuri called out through the headset. “That should be the last of them. Thanks guys!”

“Why do need so many satellites launched anyway?” Emil asked as he packed up his homemade rocket launching kit. 

“The doom laser fires straight up through the auxiliary ventilation shaft.” Tuuri explained. “So unless we want to write our names on the moon, we need to bounce it back to earth. By using a whole network of satellites we make sure there’s no blind spots. We can strike anywhere at any time.”

“But won’t they see us launching these satellites? I mean, you can’t exactly do it subtly.” 

“I called in some favors,” Mikkel butted into the com channel. “As far as the authorities know, we’re an entertainment company who’s hoping Finnish soap-operas will take off in Latin America.”

“The satellites were the last big thing on the list.” Tuuri explained. “There’s just a few things we need to finished up, but all the big things are done. We’re going to actually get this done.”

—

“We’re fucked.”

There was being in trouble with the authorities, and then there was finding out that Interpol had found out about your plans to take over the world and were sending in special agents to arrest you all. 

“I knew this would happen,” Siv sighed as she watched her husband rush past her in the direction of the furnace room, a box of incriminating documents in his hands. Taru followed right after him with her own box of petri dishes and suspect lab equipment.

Trond was the only one who wasn’t panicking. He was just sitting on the sofa cleaning an alarming array of military weapons. Apparently he was undecided as to whether or not he wanted to go down in blaze of glory, or go back to jail. On one hand he had always wanted to die in a blaze of glory, on the other hand, being in jail had been fun. 

Siv let out another long sigh and picked up the phone. “Marie, I’m sorry to bother you but I want wondering if you could babysit the kids? WAIT DON’T HANG UP! I know you said you’d babysit them again over your dead body, but this is an emergency. I wouldn’t be asking if we didn’t have any other option.”

“The cops found out about your zombie virus research thing didn’t they?”

Siv sighed. “Yes.”

—

“Right team,” Special Lieutenant Sasha Remonskov said. “We know they’re building a doom laser in there, and it’s our job to make sure they never get around to finishing it. Our main goal is to secure this doom laser. The personnel are secondary concern. According to intel they’re just a bunch of pencil pushers who were hired because they didn’t ask questions. We’re going to enter the facility through this auxiliary vent shaft in the rear here. That’s close to where intel said the doom laser is being built. Once we’ve secured the doom laser, we move out from their to secure the rest of the bunker. Any questions? Good. Let’s go.”

—

“Alright!” Tuuri snapped the last panel in place. “Done! Who wants to test it out?”

\---

They said there was a light at the end of every tunnel.

Unfortunately, for Special Lieutenant Sasha Remonskov and her team, the light at the end of the tunnel was a eight thousand megawatt doom laser coming online for the first time.

—

The red glow of the setting sun colored the interior of Henrik’s grey SUV as he made his way home across the Oresund bridge. Another long day of meeting with Danish clients was over. All he had to do was get home. He had the radio on scan, and was looking for something good. Something energetic to keep him going.

_”...and that was Full-blown Mushroom Panic, from their new album “We Are Not on Drugs.”_

_“...then it turns out the guy is completely stoned…”_

_”...for five hours of Finnish folk songs…”_

_”Authorities have already announced that they have closed Oresund Bridge to incoming traffic and are working as fast as they can to evacuate all cars already on the bridge.”_

_”Remember that god loves you…”_

Wait a minute. Henrik’s fingers scrambled for the radio. What was that they were saying about the bridge!?

_”...that they have no idea what it is or where it’s coming from, but that it is definitely heading straight for Oresund Bridge!”_

What was heading straight for the bridge!?

It was then he realized that the warm red glow was not the setting sun, but a gigantic red laser burning its way across the sea in a gigantic cloud of steam, right towards him.

—

**Dear Mom and Dad**

**Hope the lambing went well this year and everyone is doing okay. Say hi to everyone for me.**

**My new job is going well. We’ve just completed our first major project and if everything goes according to plan I might be able to make it home in time for Christmas.**

**Oh, and if you are planning on going to Reykjavik in the near future, don’t. In fact try to avoid any major urban areas, national monuments, or natural features visible from space.**

**With love, Reynir**

—

The prison rec room was packed. Everyone was gathered in front of the small TV tucked away in the corner. Torbjorn and Siv were seated on the couch, their mouths agape.

Trond looked up from the shiv he was sharpening on the table-ledge. “What do you know,” he said as a giant-beam of light burned its way across the screen. “They actually finished it.” 

—

**OmniEagleOwl:** YOU! 

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Oh

**IcelandicSheepdog:** You know

**OmniEagleOwl:** Special agents broke down my door at two in the morning, dragged me out of bed, and told me little sister was point a giant death ray at Delhi! 

**OmniEagleOwl:** WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU MANIACS DOING!?

**IcelandicSheepdog:** I…

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Hold on a sec.

**Slepinope has been Banned**

**IcelandicSheepdog:** Sorry. We really need to find some way to take care of that guy.

—

“FIND THEM! GET THEM!” Slepinope shrieked. The agents at their computers all hunched down as he prowled between the rows, ranting and raving. It wasn’t like they needed the reminder of how important this was. The doom laser had just missed their building by a couple of meters after all. 

Then Slepinope’s phone rang. 

“WHAT?” He snapped, holding the phone to his ear. The entire room watched the colour drain from his face. “A… Aunt A!” 

—

“Alright,” Mikkel declared. “We should probably start getting our demands together for when they start to surrender. What exactly do you guy want?”

Five sets of blank stares answered him. 

“Anything? Anything at all?”

“This,” Lalli said, pointing his finger at the map on the table. 

“Hiidenportti National Park,” Mikkel wrote down on his clipboard. “In Finland.”

“I want a house,” Lalli added. “And people to leave me alone.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Mikkel assured him. “Anything else?” 

More blank stares. 

“I’ll start with riches, fame, and power and go from there.”

—

“Where’s Slepinope!?”

“His pastor called!” One of the computer guys called back. “He’s locked himself in the broom closet, crying and repenting his life choices!” 

“Great,” the general groaned. “Just when we need him to be an amoral psychopath. What’s the current status.”

“Global forces are having difficulty mustering,” another tech reported. “They’ve started targeting military installations with that damn doom laser.”

“Can we shoot it down yet?” 

“Orbital capable missiles are being prepared for launch from Port Kovoski in five point three minutes.”

There was a flash of red light and one of the large screens suddenly burst into static.

‘...Correction: from Fort Hicktown in seven point five minutes…”

—

“Well, the call has come in and they’re willing to negotiate.” Mikkel announced. 

“If they take you hostage, we’re not rescuing you,” Sigurn called back. 

“Good to know,” Mikkel replied dryly. “In the meantime try not blow the building off the map before I’ve secured good terms.” 

“No promises!” Tuuri called from the control room. “It's really hard to aim this thing. I’ve made three swipes and I still keep missing Mt. Rushmore.” 

Mikkel just sighed and headed for the door to the bunker. 

“Wait,” Lalli called out, tossing a set of keys. “Take this. They left the keys in the ignition.” 

There was a military helicopter waiting outside for him. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

—

“I told you all,” Onni’s grandma said over the phone. “Tuuri was going to build a doom laser and hold the world hostage, Lalli was going to steal the Eiffel Tower and marry a swede, and you were going to become an infrastructure engineer.”

“Grandma, this is…”

“And you said it was just the mushrooms! HA!”

—

“Negotiations are going well,” Mikkel reported over the radio. “Things are tense, but after Tuuri turned the Pentagon into a hexagon, they’re taking us seriously. We’ve managed to get the cash ransom up to fifty billion dollars, but I think we can work them up to at least seventy if Tuuri is willing to blow up a few more oil refineries. The Finns have agreed to the cabin and the exclusion zone, but they’re reluctant to give up the whole park. They’ve offered some other isolated pieces of land on the table though. I think Tuuri blowing up the White House and vaporizing the US president earned us a bit of good faith.”

—

Kitty, like all cats, had her favorite spot. That spot was on top of the power transformer for the doom laser. It was covered, she looked down upon the humans as they scurried about around her, and there was even a wicker basket up there lined with a feather pillow and a fleece blanket. 

Down below Tuuri let out another mad cackle, there was a whirr from the doom laser, and the large tube going up into the ceiling glowed a soft red. 

And now her favorite spot came pre-heated. Life was good.

—

Under most circumstances, eight degrees celcius was not considered bikini weather. Sigrun didn’t give a damn what other people thought was good bikini weather. If she wanted to lie on the beach on her own private island and drink fruity drinks out of a coconut with a little paper umbrella in it, then that was what she was damn well going to do. 

Besides, eight above was a warm sunny day in Svalbard. 

She would have prefered an island with more palm trees. But according to Mikkel most of those islands either already had mansions built on them, or had already been blasted by Tuuri. So, Svalbard it was. The Norwegian government had bitched and moaned as if she was taking the whole archipelago instead of a couple measly islands. But then Tuuri cut a few new fjords into the coastline and they promptly changed their tune. 

All and all things had worked out pretty well. Three hundred billion dollars was pretty good for several months work, even if you had to split it six ways. Not to mention they had even got the authorities to release the Vasterstroms and the other conspirators. The immediate amnesty and future immunity from any and all criminal charges was nice too, but really, that should have been a given. Tuuri had gotten pretty close to UN Headquarters before they finally agreed to that clause. 

Although they had to give back the Gemerald, and the Eiffel Tower, and most of the other stuff. Except for a few of the paintings that they had happened to like. They let them keep those, and in return Tuuri hadn’t bisected the Arc de Triomphe. 

Surprisingly enough, Tuuri was still working with that doom laser. She had moved it out of that shitty bunker into a new high tech lab and development facility. The US government had bitched and moaned about handing over one of their top secret research facilities, at least until Tuuri had gotten to within twelve feet of their secret bunker. Apparently she wanted to develop it into some kind of asteroid defence grid, but it was apparently hard finding qualified people who weren’t spies. 

Sigrun shook her head. You’d think they’d be happy it wasn’t being pointed back at earth anymore, but no. 

Lalli at least was keeping quiet. The Finnish government had bitched and moaned about handing over a hundred square kilometers of national forest, but had changed their tune the moment Tuuri started swinging the doom laser across the Baltic. Last Sigrun had heard, he had built a cabin for himself and was living like some kind of hermit. 

At least that was what she heard. Emil was the only one who saw him regularly, and that was because he took a helicopter into the forest every week to see if Lalli was still alive and drop off some supplies. The Swedish government had bitched and moaned about handing over the historic castle, but they had changed their tune when Tuuri accidently swiped Stockholm. He was apparently making good money charging spectators for the right to watch him blow up things in the field behind his castle. Not that he really needed it.

Reynir had gone on a world trip, touring all the countries of the world. The government of North Korea had bitched and moaned about allowing foreigners free access to their country. But they had changed their tune after Tuuri wiped their entire nuclear arms program off the map. After that he had gone back home, bought some land, and set himself down to spend the rest of the his life raising sheep.

Okay, so a five hundred acre estate with a nordic style villa and one of the largest sheep herds in the entire country wasn’t exactly what people were expecting. But hey, the kid had style at least. 

And you had to give Mikkel credit, he had negotiated a pretty good deal for everyone. Sure the governments of Denmark, Canada, Uruguay, New Zealand, Saudi Arabia, Zimbabwe, and China bitched and moaned about giving him anything. Apparently they still remembered his stint as a diplomatic aide. But still, even they had changed their tune as the damages started adding up.

Sigrun didn’t actually know what Mikkel had asked for. They had just given him this brown envelope which he had slid into the inside pocket of his jacket. But he had seemed happy with it, so who was she to complain. 

She reached over and grabbed another coconut from the basket beside her, and began trimming it with her machete. 

“HEY BEACH BOY! GET ME ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE DRINKS!” She called out to the shivering teenager sitting by the cooler. 

Ah well, who needed stupid palm trees anyway.


End file.
